Impossible to resist him

Chapter 10 ❤️ Work of Art

Today is going to be a beautiful day. I feel it.

I woke up on the right foot and will use my good mood and motivation to be productive.

I started the morning having a bowl of home made berry oatmeal on the beach. The sound of the waves, the feeling of grains of sand between my toes and the gentle warmth of the sun on my skin makes the moment more than perfect. For once I could have peace.

I like to be alone with my own thoughts. It makes me feel good.

On a whim, I take my bike and go explore my neighborhood. The small gravel path on the side of which the family chalet sits had a large majority of three-season bungalows covered with wood shingles and with colorful shutters without much landscaping. I can still see some permanent houses, like that of the Wentz.

A small wooded area separates our street from the rest of the residential area. Contrary to our path, this part of the city wase exclusively made up of pretty little houses with well-kept flowerbeds and green lawns. The streets are deserted at this time of day.Only a few alley cats appear on the asphalt path from time to time.

I take a deep breath of the fresh morning air. I take my time to observe the different plants and flowers that the in habitants of the district cultivate in their garden.

People don't have a lot of inventiveness: most plants are begonias orpetunias, nothing really exceptional. I still see a minority of Japanese lilacs and royal lilies. My father was a botanist. He taught me the different kinds of flowers and fruit trees when I was a child. It was he who gave me this love for flora. Yes, I don't really like going out in the forest, but that doesn't prevent me from loving the aesthetics of flowers.

❤️

Of course, my morning of peace could not last.

When I get back to the cabin, my mom gives me a list of things to do during the day.

In stead of roasting in the sun, I was going to have to repaint the woodenfence in the garden and water the plants. After making her point, she hands me two cans of white paint and a kit of brushes. I sigh and mumble a coronation and something about the injustice of this matter,but I still motivate myself to my chore of the day.

It's only been half an hour since I've been crouching in front of the fence covering it with a white layer and I'm already exhausted. My sweater is wet with sweat and covered in paint, like my hands, for that matter. Big drops of sweat trickle down my face, landing in the grass. The worst part is that I didn't even get to half of the surface to be covered.

Suddenly,a shadow blocks the burning rays of the sun beating on my sweater. Ah and is placed on my shoulder.

"No,mom, I don't need sunscreen! I say dryly without turning away from mywork.

I hear a laugh coming from behind me. I know it's not my mother's, it's too serious.

"Hey,Trick! "

I suddenly turn around at the sound of the cheerful voice.

"Hey,Pete! I greet my friend.

He is slightly shirt less and his swimsuit shorts are slightly low on hiships. I can clearly distinguish the top of his tattoo with the wingsof bats, the one placed at the bottom of his pelvis. I will keep the reason why I know about the existence of this tattoo a secret.

Drops of water pearl on his faded hair and on his golden skin, sometrickling down his chest to his abdominals.

I feel my mouth go dry. I swallow with difficulty.

"Need help ? "

Pete's voice snaps me out of my musings.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your activities, it's too good to bearound painting a fucking fence."

-Well no, I would be delighted to be able to help you, "he insists with a beautiful, seductive smile.

I'm going to faint.

Without dwelling on her physique, I handed her a brush and we got to work.

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"So there, I tell her 'hey, mom, I'm bi" and she says "good, itwas about time you told us!" "

I preciously engrave this information in my memory.

The sun is slowly starting to weaken and the temperature to cool off. Westart the last brush strokes before the end of our job. It would soon be time for me and Pete to go our separate ways, although I wouldn'tbe tempted to leave this adorable jerk who keeps making me laugh outloud.

With him, the afternoon passed quickly. Too fast, even. I no longer paid attention to the drops of sweat on my forehead and the dry paint on my fingers. All I care about is his smile, his voice and the twinkle in his eyes when he laughs.

I managed to learn more about him, during that afternoon. I know nowthat he turned 21 on June 5, has a sister and brother both younger than him, but that they are staying with their cousins in Indianapolis for the summer and playing of the bass guitar in wasted time.

Heal so grew up with the same musical influences as me: Green Day, David Bowie and the Beatles had forged my childhood and his.

Inshort, I realize that I love him even more than before.